(the following will consist of poor grammar, capitalization, and possibly a plethora of spelling errors. i am tired. don't judge me.)
ohhhhhhhhhh boy. what a couple of nights. i needed so badly to write another note. so many situations which are all very important to document. AKA HILARIOUS.
the night before last we decided to hit up picadilly circus. for those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's basically like a times square or vegas strip of london. (all it was missing was the porno cards that they hand out in vegas. which are fun to collect, PS.) we took the tube on the way there. we were a group of about 9 VERY LOUD
american girls. they people on the tube looked like their ears/eyes were being assaulted as we turned the tube into our own personal photo shoot set. (whoops.) we got off at our stop and on our way out we had to go on the intensely steep and terrifying escalators. highlight of that escalator ride was a small foreign man screaming at us "AMER-eee-can GULS!!! We LAHHHVEEE YOUUUU. OH-bah--MAAAAAA!! GO OH-BA-MAHHH!" hahaha christ. thank you barack obama for helping the foreigners love us again. i'm not about to get all political on ya'all but let's just say i doubt any little men would've been shouting "WE HEART BUSHHHHHH!!!!!" at us. let's just keep it at that.
we finally got to picadilly circus and it was a bit crazy. as we walked to the bar we were on our way to, Oxygen, there are people lining the street calling out attempting to get you to go to "their" bar/club that they're promoting. "Pretty Girls!!!! Where are you going tonight??? Free shots if you come with me..." etc.
we arrived at Oxygen. packed. fun. apparently it pays to be american in a foreign place. we all got free drinks to begin with and had a blasty blast. funnily enough, the most hilarious part of our journey of the night didn't occur until our way home on the night buses.
we didn't know where to go, which left us at the mercy of drunk londoners giving us directions back to the apartments. This very short english boy (whose eyes kept crossing at different points. from slight retardation or influenced by alcohol...? we may never know.... and i like to keep it that way.) kept attempting to "help" us with our bus route, but i began to think he was probably giving us directions to his Rape Lair. not okay.
once we boarded the bus we met the CHARACTER of the night. this "bloke" was completely PISSED (AKA drunk, wasted, smashed, three sheets to the wind, DONE-ZO). he kept calling one of the girls in our group Beyonce, and getting all up in various girls in our group grills. he did not understand the concept of back the eff off. all of a sudden, i think a thought crossed his mind: "I KNOW! I WILL WOO THEM WITH A SONG. A song sooooo unbelievably sexy that they will not be able to resist me." (which was already hard to do. with his lazy eye, drunken swagger, raging dragon breath and bubba teeth.) We then heard his sexy serenade...
"Ohhhhh SAYYY CANNN YOU seeeEEEEEEEE!!!! BY THE DAWN'S EARRRLLEEEEE LIIIIIIIIIIIGHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT WHAT SO PROUDLY WE *mumble mumble* (and then still in the tune of the anthem) MY APOLOGIES GIRLLSSSS I DON'T KNOW THE WORDSSSSSSSSS!!!!!"
my god. what can i say. i almost fell in love on the spot. almost. *sigh* (not.) jordin and i wanted to save $ on a cab, so we waited until 5 am to catch the first tube home. (which led to a certain video that is on my page). we ended up getting home at 7:30AM. slept. until 3 the next day. we made it home alive, but scarred for life. in a good way? oh boy, london, how i love thee.
we awoke the next morning (or day, rather.) and what did we think to ourselves? ROUND TWO! last night had even more fabulous adventures in store. it was time to hit up soho (famous for it's thriving gay nightlife scene.)
the first bar we went to had a complete brighter-than-life rainbow light up scene on the front. walking in, it was a whole different atmosphere. we hung out here for a while, and then decided to hit up someplace a little more "out there" and busy.
Next stop? The club called G-A-Y. walking in, lady gaga, sequins, and vogue-ing all basically slap you across the face. (in other words, what could be better?)
the best part of being a straight american girl in a gay bar? 0,00% creepers that are hitting on you, grabbing your ass, or asking if you're wearing "knickers." best part: tons of gay boys who want to dance with you, sing at the top of their lungs to aretha franklin and lady gaga with you, and tell you how fabulous you look.
we met this special little character at G-A-Y. i can't exactly remember his name. but we'll just call him vivienne. i commented on how much i loved his blazer. (i actually wanted to steal it off of his back.) he told us his entire ensemble was vivienne westwood. and that he made his pants (which were fabulous) himself. he was completely obliterated and stumbling over all his words. i noticed his necklace, which was adorable too. i commented on it, and to my surprise he lifted it to his mouth and then it exploded with the most intense, high pitched, screeching noice you've EVER heard in your life. i had to check if my ears were bleeding.
we proceeded to ask him why he was carrying a rape whistle. and that he probably shouldn't blow it to avoid a little gay boy crying wolf situation, because he was CLEARLY not being raped, as he was bumping and grinding with this other boy we had met named Ohi. then, hilariously he told us "In the UK, this is a SEXY FUN whistle!!!!!" shit. alright. hahaa. do what you do, rape whistle boy.
looks like my next purchase needs to be a "sexy fun whistle." they're all the rage. didn't you know? toodles for now.
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